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tonight. He remembered how much fun it’d been to shop for her. How he imagined her in the clothes he bought. The shirt she currently had on gave him a nice view of her breasts, but even better, it showed off his collar. He loved the way the black leather wrapped around her throat. Taken, it said. Claimed. Unavailable to you.
And yet to him it whispered something more. Yours. Take me. Use me.
He needed to keep that whispering voice in check. Technically, she was only his for the next thirteen days. Thirteen days.
And twelve nights.
“Dinner smells wonderful, Sir,” she said, shifting his focus away from his plans for the night.
“When you’re wearing clothes, you may call me Cole.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m more comfortable using Sir all the time.”
She’d applied light makeup while dressing for dinner and her lips were full and red. It was rather hard to think about anything other than her mouth when she wore lipstick that color. Or if it wasn’t her mouth, it was whether or not her lipstick would stain his cock if she deep throated him.
She tilted her head as if waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Her laugh was musical. “I said, if it’s okay with you, I’m more comfortable using Sir all the time.”
“When we’re observing lower protocol, I don’t want you to feel inhibited. I’ve found that it’s easier to remember if you’re able to use my given name.”
She leaned forward and he did the same instinctively. In a low voice, she explained, “I only have these two weeks to call you Sir. After that, you’ll just be Cole unless we’re with the group. Please let me call you Sir. I promise I won’t let it make me feel inhibited when I’m wearing clothes.”
It had “Bad Idea” written all over it. He should tell her no and insist she call him Cole. But it was such a little thing. She rarely asked for anything. Surely, he could give her this.
He reached across the table and took her hand. “All right, little one, if you want to use Sir, I won’t make you do otherwise.”
Her smile transformed her entire face and she beamed at him, like he’d just bought her the damn moon. Bloody hell. Was he that much of a jerk that allowing her to call him Sir could elicit such a response?
He tightened his grip on his fork. Time to change the subject. “How do you feel after your first few hours of slave training?”
“My mind’s fighting me more than I thought it would. I thought it’d be easy to stand down and let you take over, but it’s hard.”
“You’ve worked your entire life to be strong and self-sufficient. Of course it’s hard. And not everyone is cut out to be a full-time slave.”
A small smile danced on her lips. “I think it’s a bit early to make that call, don’t you?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. If you really hated it . . .”
She shook her head. “If I really hated it, I wouldn’t have accepted your training collar earlier.”
“Point taken.”
“I think I’ll give it another day, at least. I’d hate to make a decision without experiencing a complete night with you.”
The words left him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Something flashed in her eyes, but she dropped her head to her plate before he could tell what.
Changing the subject, he brought her phone out of his pocket. “No one’s called or sent a text today. Do you need to get in touch with anyone?”
“No.” She scooped up rice on her fork. “I told my parents I was going to a work conference out of town and I’d call them when I could, but it probably wouldn’t be often.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You lied to your parents?”
“The other option was to tell them I was living with a man I’ve known less than a year so he could train me to be a slave and I probably wouldn’t be able to call very often seeing as how I’d have his dick in my mouth a good portion of the time.”
Her matter-of-fact statement was spoken so off-handedly, he choked on his wine. “Yes, I can see why you went with the first option.”
She shrugged. “I’m more than happy to tell them the truth, but they probably wouldn’t take it so well.”
“Are you close to your parents?”
“Not overly. They retired to Florida, so I usually only see them at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”
“Brothers or sisters?”
She took a bite of rice before replying. “Suddenly interested in my family?”
“I’m interested in how you became the woman you are today.”
Her gaze dropped to her plate, but he thought he saw the beginnings of a smile. He was certain of it when she looked up and he saw the delight in her eyes at his statement.
“I have an older brother,” she said.
“Uh-oh, should I be afraid?”
She laughed. “I won’t tell him if you don’t. He’s a car salesman in Dover. We aren’t all that close, but I see him more frequently than I do my parents. I had a very average and normal childhood. Graduated high school and went to college, where I met Julie.”
“College was where you also discovered your submissive tendencies.”
“Yes.”
“What made you stay in the lifestyle? As one of the group members, I mean. Why not just be a dabbler?”
She took her time thinking through his question. “I didn’t see the point in doing it halfway. I knew almost immediately that I was submissive, so it only made sense to seek out likeminded people.”
“You told me a few weeks ago that one of the things you liked about being a submissive was turning over control so you could just feel while knowing that you would be protected.”
She nodded.
“What makes you feel the most protected?”
“During a scene or outside of one?”
“Either.”
“Earlier today, after the kitchen island, when you took me to your bedroom. That made me feel safe and protected. I mean, I know it’s aftercare and you have to do it, but I felt so secure with you holding me. It was as if nothing else and no one else could touch me.”
“It may be aftercare and I may do it regardless of the scene, but rest assured I got just as much out of holding you as you did.”
“I never understood that part of being a Dominant.”
“I can’t speak for every Dominant, but after a scene, I need to hold you. I need to feel you in my arms, so soft and satisfied and know that you’re okay. Know that we’re okay. When I hold you after a scene, it’s a way to reconnect and ensure our relationship grows. Plus, I’ve always found it’s easier to talk when you’re cuddled together.”
“You don’t strike me as the cuddling type.”
“Perhaps cuddle is the wrong word.”
“I didn’t think you ever picked the wrong word,” she teased, watching him carefully over the rim of her wineglass.
“All writers have editors.” He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the lighthearted conversation. “Let’s see. If I had to replace cuddle with another word, I’d say, ‘I’ve always found it’s easier to talk when you’re wrapped together skin-on-skin and so close your bodies speak in ways your mouth can’t.’”
The wineglass she’d been drinking from was now suspended halfway between the table and her lips.
“Sasha?” he asked.
“Uh, what?” She put the glass down. “I got lost somewhere between skin-on-skin and mouth.”
He laughed. It seemed it was always easier to laugh when Sasha was around. “I’ll help you clean up the kitchen and then we’ll see if we can find a movie to watch.”
• • •
